


A Shrike Passes Through

by 3levetoi



Series: Daleko [1]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Bittersweet Ending, Canon Era, Comfort/Angst, Explicit Sexual Content, Friends to Enemies to Lovers, M/M, Merlin's Magic Revealed (Merlin), Post-Canon, Sex Magic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-23
Updated: 2021-01-29
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:35:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28254009
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/3levetoi/pseuds/3levetoi
Summary: It couldn’t be reconciled. It's been seven years since Arthur had seen his former manservant, seven years since their fight. He couldn’t let this plague him forever, so he moved on, started a family, and Camelot was peaceful under his rule.Everything is settled nicely, until the day that Arthur receives a letter from the Druids asking for a few days’ rest within the safety of the castle gates. Suddenly unsung feelings of his youth come flooding back to him, uprooting, entirely, the comfortable life he’d created for himself.
Relationships: Gwen/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Series: Daleko [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2158446
Comments: 30
Kudos: 180





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Okay ! This one hit me like a sack of bricks Im interested to see where this goes!
> 
> Basically, "For the Love of Camelot" (the last two episodes of the show) were canon except that Merlin succeeding in resurrecting him.

Arthur awoke that morning, or his eyes opened but he felt like he hadn’t truly slept for more than an hour or two. Despite the frigid air outside, he was sweating under the weight of the furs on his bed and adding that to the heat of his wife’s sleeping body, pressed up against his side, it made him feel suffocated. He slowly removed himself from the two, doing his best not to wake Gwen.

The cold hit his skin like a gust of wind, but it didn’t bother him. Truthfully he enjoyed the winter months, or at least he’d enjoy them more if he didn’t have to concern himself with the ration of crops or the heath of his subjects. He liked the feeling of his skin prickling and the beauty of the snow. 

Afterall, the last decade or so under the rule of Arthur Pendragon had brought mostly peaceful times in the kingdom of Camelot. Aside a few hiccups, you know, the occasional invasive beast here and there or maybe a brief drought. Arthur had proven himself to be a king with a level head and a solution to everything, and people had taken notice. 

He rubbed his eyes but it did little to ease the dull pain behind them. The sun was just starting to peak over the broad horizon, leaving what sky he could see from his little bedroom window almost as dim as night, save of course, a beautiful little corner of the world that was surely painted by God’s brush. 

It was something lovely. 

He stood gazing out for a moment before he moved to start his day. Gwen was still sound asleep. _She’s so beautiful this way,_ he thought as he watched the tranquility on her face and her chest calmly rising and falling with her breath. Her long curly hair draped around her shoulders. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen it undone like this.

Waking up next to her felt strange. He had not slept next to her in many weeks, it was not customary, but she had crawled into his bed the night previous complaining of being cold, then after a round of making love, she divulged that she was simply worried about him and that he would perhaps sleep better with a bed warmer by his side, referring to herself of course. He had smiled when she’d said this and kissed her neck.

They were happy together. She was, as he was convinced, his better half. She talked him down when he was about to make a poor decision, demanded he stayed home from hunts and things he first would’ve thought as brave and heroic, but very well could leave Camelot’s throne empty should bad luck fall upon him. 

And he could never resent her for it. He oftentimes felt the weight of the lives he governed on his shoulders which would surely fall heavier on Gwen should he leave the kingdom to her. Afterall, he had grown up in this environment, he had grown up with the knowledge that he would inherit this great responsibility. He had his whole life to prepare himself. She had not. 

Still, sometimes he desperately missed riding through the forest with the company of one, or the daring adventure of his youth. It all seemed long behind him now. (And more frightfully he feared himself growing fat and lazy in the eyes of his people.)

He got himself dressed, knowing that his cozy chambers would be considerably warmer than the rest of the castle and left to stroll through the halls. He found himself on the terrace overlooking the gardens as the last of the sun hung itself proudly in the sky. He gave one more grateful look to the land that was his and turned to seek his breakfast. 

Lately the days seemed to bleed together. Nothing notable set any length of time apart, so when he had a moment as beautiful as this one, he wanted to relish every second.

And who would’ve thought that a peaceful kingdom would make for a bored king?

He’d done everything right. He loved his wife, he loved his boys, he loved his kingdom, still he felt like there was something missing. Surely this wasn’t all there was to this life… but he knew that today would be different. Dread had slowly been filling his blood since he’d first gotten news.

“My Liege,” a chambermaid curtsied stopping him in the hall, to which he replied with a nod, “the queen, she is not in her chambers.”

“Yes, she fell asleep in mine, please wake her kindly.”

“Yes, my liege,” she bowed again. 

He continued to the dining hall where four plates were set at the end of the long wooden table. He sat at the head, naturally. Sunlight streamed through the grandiose windows that lined the Great Hall, illuminating the whole room with a cheerful air. 

Before too long, Guinevere made her grand entrance in her green satin gown and sat down beside her beloved, taking his wrist in her hand. She looked at him earnestly with her deep brown eyes.

“How are you feeling?” She knew of his troubles sleeping, she knew how much it took from him during the day. She also knew the exact reason for his discomfort.

“I’m better now my dear, now that you’re here,” Arthur smiled, despite the doubt he felt for his own words. He was nervous. That very afternoon, he would be receiving an old friend into his hospitality, a friend he never thought he’d see again, and not for lack of trying.

He couldn’t help but feel remorse when he thought back on what happened. It was then that he really felt the exhaustion behind his eyes. He was nearing his thirtieth year and he was already growing tired. It was the kind of tired that sleep can’t fix. He felt like his youthful years had passed him. This kind of work, taking on the fears of his people trying to solve them, it ages you. 

It didn’t help that he also took on an immense amount of guilt for what had happened all those years ago. He’d been thinking about his past a lot lately, and it’s all because of that blasted letter.

  
  


The parchment was thrusted into his attention by his herald not more than a week ago. It read:

**_My dear old friend,_ **

**_I have spent these years finding my way among the druids. Our party is making its journey to Essetir but winter has settled in swiftly._ **

**_I write to beg refuge in Camelot until the solstice if you would permit us._ **

**_We are pleased to accept any offer you might find for us._ **

**_Merlin_ **

  
  


Arthur had to read the letter over twice and three times. At first he thought this some sort of joke, afterall there was no evidence of his former friend between these eloquent lines, there were no playful jabs, no pointed remarks at his nobility. It was articulate and to the point, as though it were written by someone who wrote to him in a strictly professional capacity. Even the handwriting was elegant! 

If this wasn’t the clumsy fool he’d known so deeply in his youth, who could it be?

“I’m worried that you’re not sleeping,” Gwen pressed her thumb gently to the underside of his wrist and pursed her lips, bringing him back from his thoughts. 

“It’s alright, there’s no need to worry,” he tried to put on his most convincing tone but she didn’t seem so convinced. 

“My love, you have nothing to fear. I’m sure Merlin hasn’t changed as much as you suspect that he has. He will find it in his heart to forgive you, he probably already has if he felt comfortable enough to ask this of you,” Gwen looked at her husband lovingly, waiting for a response. But luckily for him, one of the tall doors flew open and in bursted two little boys with a frazzled nurse trailing behind them. 

“I’m sorry, my Lord,” the poor woman panted, trying to keep up. “They keep evadin’ me.”

“That’s quite alright,” Arthur chuckled as they climbed up into their respective seats at the table. The older one, Amr, was nearly five with tanned skin, dark brown hair, and a head strong demeanor, while the younger, Gwydre, was hardly three with a mop of golden curls, and a near permanent grin plastered to his face. Gwydre worshipped his brother. He followed him around like a lost puppy and Amr hardly seemed to mind.

“Boys, behave for Ms. Athylia,” Gwen scolded. The boys nodded in response as their meals were brought to them. “You boys live very nicely and it’s important that you consider the work that others do for you.”

As the dishes were set down in front of the royal family, the boys looked like they could devour their breakfasts in one bite, and they certainly would’ve if Gwen hadn’t held up her finger with a “Ah-ah. What do we say?” 

“Thank you, Mathilde,” Amr said in his innocent, very-convincingly-sincere five year old manner to the serving girl.

“Thank you Mathilde,” Gwydre echoed. 

“Yes, thank you,” Gwen also said. 

The girl nodded and went back to the kitchen. 

The Queen spoke to the boys as they ate but the words washed over Arthur. He never thought he’d grow so comfortable with this domestic sort of routine he found himself in. He’d always hated having meals with his father, Uther had always been cold and curt towards him. When Arthur found out Guineviere was first pregnant, he vowed to himself to be what his own father couldn’t. He vowed to be loving and kind towards his children. Firm, of course, when he had to be, but nurturing above all else. 

He wondered if Merlin had started a family of his own. What kind of father would he be? What kind of _husband_ would he be? _A bloody hilarious one,_ he thought, feeling the corners of his lips twinge upwards. He tried to imagine Merlin, as he had known him, trying to please a woman. 

But then his thoughts fell onto that dreadful evening as they so often did after the rosey musings settled. Merlin had been such a pivotal part of his youth, they’d seen eachother everyday for a number of years, he was his manservant, but perhaps truer still, he was his friend. There were mornings, he could remember, when he woke up excited to see him (or maybe _verbally abuse_ would be a better phrase). But all that had ended so abruptly.

Merlin crossed his thoughts every day for months after that, what’s even worse is that he began to cross his dreams too. In these dreams, Merlin always had that lopsided grin on his face, the one that made Arthur smile too, but as soon as Merlin noticed him, the smile vanished and his expression fell to hurt and grief. The dreams were always the same, even after Arthur quickly decided he was the one solely at fault. But they kept coming, and with everyone, a little more guilt piled on his conscience. 

So as you can imagine, he was nervous to see Merlin after all this time. He didn't know if he would be enraged or bitter, frankly he had no idea what to expect. Although the few lines of the letter rolled around his head so often in that week and every time he mulled them over once again he found no new contempt within the words.

The time had finally come. The King, with his family by his side stood regally in the Great Room, with his trusted advisors and subjects of the court standing behind him, to welcome this man from his past. 

Arthur’s outward appearance was calm and collected, like any decent monarch, but his heart was beating furiously, and then it seemed to stop altogether when Sir Leon turned the corner into the spacious room. Following them, was a small party of people no more than fifteen, all sporting cloaks and hoods in the coldness of winter. 

Leon turned to face their guests, taking his place to the right of his king. 

“Sire, may I present to you the Southern Druid Clan, friends to Camelot.” Arthur searched over the crowd as they all lifted their hoods. 

One of the men stepped forward. He was burly and had dark wavy hair that brushed his neck and flowed into a short thick beard. 

Arthur almost didn’t recognize him. How could he have? 

“You’ve gotten fat,” Merlin said with a serious timbre of his voice that hadn't been there seven years ago. Looking at him now, it was clear that Merlin was not the incompetent boy he was. That person was gone. And a man now stood in his place.

“And you’ve gotten old,” Arthur blurted out.

They eyed each other for a moment but then Merlin broke into a wide smile, and pulled him into a bear hug. Arthur didn’t know what to say. He breathed out a sigh of relief that Merlin seemed to harbor no ill will towards him. 

“It’s good to see you again, my Lord,” Merlin clapped him on the back.

“You only used to use my titles when you tried to piss me off,” Arthur laughed, pulling away, “what have you done this time?” 

The brightness of his smile faded just a little bit, as he looked over Arthur’s face. There was a great sadness behind Merlin’s eyes. He had changed so much. It was clear that his demeanor maybe hadn’t totally evolved even if his face and air had. He stood taller, more certain. He'd even grown to be somewhat handsome from an abstract point of view. 

Arthur wondered how he’d changed since Merlin had last seen him. 

“Thank you for receiving us,” Merlin said instead, “your grace will not go forgotten.”

He turned to Leon and smiled again. Leon beamed too and hugged him despite court formalities. Merlin laughed from the contact. It was a desperately happy moment. It somehow felt intimate despite the onlookers of the court and their guests. Unfortunately kings were not often permitted to this privilege of privacy. 

“You’ve been gone too long, my friend," Leon clapped him on the shoulder. 

“Yes I intend to make the intervals between my visits far shorter,” Merlin smiled again and moved to Gwen. 

“Queen Guinevere,” He said sweetly.

“Oh, Merlin!” She embraced him tightly and as she did he was taken back to the days of his youth. Gwen had been his first friend in Camelot, but back then she was only a servant and now look at her! The People’s Queen! Her humble beginnings undoubtedly brought a new perspective to the noble decisions that she was often a part of. 

Gwen was beautifully adorned in a satin gown and jewelry, but not ostentatiously so. She was not one to flaunt anything once she had it. 

“And whose are these?!” Merlin cried with amusement referring to the giggling little boys who stood proudly next to their mother. 

“My name’s Amr.” 

“Mine’s Merlin, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“I’m Gwydre, I’m three and a half!” 

“Arthur, this one’s a spitting image!” Merlin chuckled then crouched down to look at the boys, “you’re going to look just like your father when you’re older.” 

“I’ll show them to their rooms, Sire,” Leon stepped forward.

“No, allow me. I’ll show Merlin to his chamber,” Arthur looked fondly over his old friend’s face, still not believing this was once the awkward boy he’d spent so much time with. He turned to the clan, “And of course, we’d like to invite you all to dinner this evening, after you’ve had time to settle in.”

“It would be our honor, my Liege,” One of the druids spoke.

Arthur nodded and strolled out of the Great Hall leaving murmuring subjects to get acquainted. But as walked farther from the hall, the merriness of the reunion faded too or at least a sort of awkwardness had descended in its place. He hadn’t realized how deafening this kind of quiet could be. 

Merlin walked in stride beside him, admiring the decor and no doubt musing over his memories but Arthur stared at his feet looking for something to say. He felt his gut knot up. His mind flickered back to the last time they had spoken. That moment of rage and confusion was etched into his memory forever. How often he had wished he’d said nothing at all. How different his life would be if that had never taken place. 

  
  
  


_He’d been wounded, mortally so, he was lying on the edge of a lake, dying and then he felt no ground beneath him as though he was being lifted into nothingness. The moments in between were a bit hazy now, perhaps they always had been, but those weren’t the important ones._

_He was pulled back to where he was before that. He recalled feeling lips pressed against his own and willed his body to open his eyes only to see Merlin kneeling over him at dawn. His closest friend, he’d smiled down at him with tears in his eyes and the most brilliant smile, yes he can remember that clearly._

_He’d lived. Somehow, he was alive._

_Arthur opened his mouth but he couldn’t muster the sound._

_“Don’t try and speak,” Merlin had whispered. Arthur felt a hand caress his cheek and felt at peace._

_They sat there for hours and it was dark again when they finally returned home. His limbs still didn’t yet obey him and his tongue was not as deft as it had been days before, but his mind was awake. There was no telling how long he’d been in that dark miserable place._

_Upon his return to Camelot and the comfort of his bed, sleep didn’t come to him for days after. It was one long stretch of awakeness during which he could only slowly try to regain command of his body and think about what he’d just endured._

_After the fourth night, he could sit up in bed and speak slowly and eat for himself. No better than an invalid, he depended on his servants. He had grown irritable and weary of his slow recovery and was ready to go back to how things were._

_On the sixth night, Merlin was tending to him, as he quietly had every night. He was cleaning the exit wound, the massive gash to the King’s back. He worked his hands for what felt like hours into his back before Arthur spoke._

_“Where did I go?” He asked flatly._

_Merlin’s fingers halted._

_“I was dead, wasn’t I?”_

_The hand had pulled itself away from his skin. The tension in the room was palpable. Merlin had hoped that this conversation would come at a time when the King was not confined to his bed, but he would not deny it now. “Yes… you were gone.”_

_“And you brought me back?”_

_Merlin slowly moved to face Arthur. He’d wanted to tell him for so long about his magic. Must he say anything, he wanted to be easy on Arthur. The problem was that there was no way it could be easy at all._

_Merlin nodded._

_But that was behind him. Now, amidst all the confusion, the hurt, the death of his friends, his family, his sister, now it was clear that his closest friend had been lying to him from the start. Arthur could feel shock and anger bubble up inside of him._ _He couldn’t look him in the eye, he felt betrayed. His father had made it his life's mission to purge magic from his kingdom and here was a sorcerer who wedged himself right under his nose. It felt like Merlin had just pissed on his grave._

_“You are not the person I thought you were.”_

_These words struck Merlin in the heart. He knew he could never be that person._

_“It was all for you, Arthur. Everything. Everything I’ve done was for you,” Merlin looked at him. His eyes were searching for some kind of understanding in his sharp features but he didn’t find it. All these years he’d managed to protect his king from danger, yes, but also this abominable secret. He never meant for him to find out this way. He didn’t know if he’d meant for him to find out at all. He felt like he was going to cry out._

_“I’m sorry.”_

_“No, I’m sorry that you had such little faith to not confide in me something so crucial to you. Do you really think so little of me?” Arthur snapped._

_Merlin was horrified. He felt bile rise to his throat, he tried to swallow it. “Arthur, that’s not what happened,” he choked, “I didn’t want you to have to decide what to do. I wanted you to be at peace!”_

_The King looked hard at Merlin. There was a sort of disgust in his eyes that he would never forget. “That was not your decision to make!”_

_“Arthur, I-”_

_“You what?” He hissed. In that moment, he really couldn’t even articulate the hatred he felt for the man sitting in front of him. The man he thought he’d known inside and out was now completely foreign to him._

_“-I love you.”_

_There he’d said it. He hadn’t meant to but now it was there hanging in the stagnant air between them. This was it. The real secret. He’d only realized it a few months ago and since then tried to suppress it. Nothing could come of it after all. No, this is the kind of secret that was never meant to be shared._

_He wanted to kick himself. He wished to god he’d never said anything. Arthur’s disgust and hatred only grew more evident across his face. This expression that, for weeks after, he would see burning behind his eyes, a moment would never truly fade from his memory._

_“Get out,” Arthur growled._

  
  
  
  


They stopped at one of the thick wooden doors of the Guest Wing and Arthur pushed it open. It was the largest room he had. Regal red drapes lined the tall windows overlooking the courtyard, there was a nook for reading and a fireplace. 

“Oh Arthur! You didn’t have to do all this for me.

_I wanted to_ , is what he would’ve said in response but he couldn’t seem to get his lips to move at all. He was quiet.

“Are you alright?” Merlin asked, placing a hand on his shoulder. He looked at his King with earnest concern, searching for something on his face. 

Arthur’s heart sagged. If he were a weaker man, he’d have felt tears on his cheek. There was so much he wanted to say to Merlin. So much he wanted to apologize for. But even after years and years of dragging himself through the wringer thinking about it, he couldn’t form the words.

“For the first time in seven years, I think I am,” He said quietly.

Merlin flashed a beautiful smile that said _I’m glad to be back._ And turned his head to admire the room further. 

He, too, had suffered these years at the hands of that gruesome memory, but he’d learned to live with it. To harness it. Afterall, it was as much a part of him now as any other memory of this place and he’d long since forgiven Arthur for what had been said that night.

“I’ve spent so many hours in this suite,” he mused, mostly to himself. This is not what Arthur expected to hear. He’d been preparing himself since the second he’d read that letter for the conversation, the dreaded reconciling. The reopening of the wound so that they both could truly heal. But Merlin seemed in no rush to have it. 

“Not cleaning it, clearly,” Arthur snorted haughtily, “I always had to get a chambermaid to go in after you.” 

“I was a damned good manservant when I wanted to be,” he laughed.

“When was that? I must’ve been absent during those moments.” 

Merlin smiled. Arthur smiled too. _It’s easy to fall back into old comforts,_ he supposed. Merlin removed his cape, draped it over the sofa, and walked over to the book shelf to examine the colorful spines. He was still somewhat of a lean man, yes, but he now had some bulk on him. His shoulders had broadened with muscle. If he had looked like this those many years ago, Arthur might've had his doubts about challenging him on his first encounter.

Arthur was itching from his position. It was all he could think about. After all these years he could finally purge it from his system. He could finally be forgiven. 

He cleared his throat, “I wanted to apologize for the last time we spoke.” 

“Arthur, please, it’s I who should apologize. It was the wrong time and I overwhelmed you with it all. We were kids then and I wasn’t thinking.” He’d dreamed of this conversation for a long time. He didn’t want to reproach the words he’d said because there was truth in them, but it was the timing for which he felt remorse.

“That may be true, but I certainly acted like a child and there hasn’t been a day that I don’t regret what I said to you. I reacted horribly and without grace. I mourned the loss of our friendship.”

“Yes, I could say the same for myself,” then he smiled sweetly, “Water under the bridge, my friend,” Looking at him now, Merlin looked vaguely reminiscent of Sir Gwaine perhaps in the way he wore his hair more than anything else. Maybe it was a conscious homage, but more likely Merlin had probably just grown into himself.

It looked well on him, Arthur had decided. He looked like a man. Arthur couldn’t help but examine his friend’s face, gazing at all the features that he remembered but had since aged slightly. And of course then Merlin smiled and all that youth came flooding back to him.

  
  



	2. Chapter 2

The Banquet Hall was dimmer at night, naturally without sunlight to illuminate it. Candelabras lined the walls and there was a brilliant chandelier overhead, but the room still felt smaller, more intimate. Yet it was completely alive during a feast like this one. 

There were two long tables of murmuring guests and their laughter echoed off the stone walls. The wine flowed generously.

The druids were surprisingly good company. This was no holiday nor ritual, the people sported their day clothes without formality, taking away any sort of stiff edge that might hinder a night of joy. Some of the younger druids engaged in playful banter with the knights, while the others sat back and had lively discussions on more or less any topic. 

Arthur sat at the head of the long table, speaking to Iseldir about their clan's adventures thus far. He snuck a cursory glance through the crowd to his old friend who was seated practically on the opposite end of the table playing with his sons. Arthur smiled as Merlin conjured a small deer made of light, which pranced cautiously onto the outstretched hand of Amr whose eyes were wide with wonder. 

Merlin laughed with the delight of the young boy, and that happiness didn’t fade when he caught Arthur’s gaze. It was something beautiful to watch him play with his children. It was like two worlds colliding, the old and the new. 

“He is happy to see you, my lord,” Iseldir said wisely, watching the King with a knowing sort of expression. There was still so much that Arthur wanted to say to him but he didn’t know how. “There was many a night he sought out advice as to how he could make it right between you.” 

“It is not he who must fix what I have done,” Arthur looked at his plate. “I wish I had never said it.”

“Sire if I may speak freely, one should never wish away regret. Admitting fault strengthens virtue and you have proven yourself to be a king who is benevolent and level-headed, probably moreso now than that night. Your name is spoken of highly wherever we roam and it’s clear as to why that might be.”

Arthur looked at him as the man continued, “All that’s left is to heal the bond between you, and it looks like it’s already begun.” Iseldir nodded towards Merlin who was pretending to pull coins out of Gwydre's ears. 

Arthur turned back to Iseldir, but he’d already started a conversation with the person on the other side of him. It was a strange feeling, like finally after all this time, his whole family had been united, and that feeling didn’t subside.

He didn’t sleep that night, but this time it was for different reasons. There was a sort of relief he felt after their brief conversation. He was quietly elated, even if there was more to say, but perhaps even stronger, he felt amazement. Merlin acted with such a grace that Arthur never would’ve expected from him. 

Everytime Arthur looked at him he grew a little more bewildered, a little more intrigued. What had he been doing all this time? Arthur imagined he’d be more popular with women now that he had grown into himself… not that he wasn’t popular before but it was obvious now. 

He’d never felt that Merlin was very interested in chasing women, unlike Arthur in his youth. The then-prince often found an agreeable chambermaid or serving woman to share a night of unkempt passion. Even when he was on patrol he had no troubles, in fact, the knights would often tease him about his thirst and the prospect of a kingdom filled with bastard children all with their own claim to the throne. It didn’t worry him too much, he was always very careful about that.

He’d settled down since those days, he’d grown domestic. It was all very sweet, but admittedly, sometimes it was not sweetness he craved but the wildness of his younger years. 

  
  
  
...  
  


“Oh let him sleep, Arthur. When was the last time he saw sheets? Or on a bed for that matter!”

The king grumbled into his oatmeal as Gwen chatted away about the interesting talk she’d heard the night previous. Arthur only perked up to pay attention when she started talking about Merlin.

“He was so good with the boys last night. He’s grown into such an interesting young man, don’t you think?”

_He certainly has._

“We discussed all sorts of things, he’s been training with the druids all this time…” Arthur wished to god that she wouldn’t bring up his magic. It was still strange to think of him as a sorcerer even if Arthur had excused it in his mind, but nonetheless it was a part of him. “... He’s done a world of good from what I can collect. I thought he was a simple magician, but according to them, he is the most powerful sorcerer to ever walk this Earth! Our Merlin! He never fails to amaze me.”

The King had a long list of things to do, but instead he found himself looking for Merlin. It came as no surprise to anyone that this should distract him… especially taking into account how he had acted as a young prince in the company of his manservant. The two had been inseparable. There were even rumors circulating the castle that they had gone off to engage in particularly salacious activities because they spent so much time together.

It was only years later that it occured to Arthur that everyone else had had these thoughts long before he had. 

  
  


That afternoon he found Merlin, not at the physician’s quarters where he expected, but in the stables. It wasn’t frigid enough to be unbearable, but it was cold outside. Arthur was grateful when he got to the stable barn and shut the door behind him. Merlin was caressing the muzzle of his prized Mare as he held up some oats to her mouth.

“This is not where I expected to find you.” Arthur removed his gloves.

Merlin kissed the pony’s nose and whispered something Arthur didn’t understand. She brayed. “I wasn’t sure if I could handle the change,” he said, not looking at him.

Arthur understood. “It’s changed quite a bit since you’ve been gone,” he rubbed his hands together for warmth. “Gaius passed only a half year after you left. We haven’t found anyone nearly as good since.” 

Merlin didn’t speak. 

“When his quarters were being cleared, we found some things of yours as well.” 

“Anything interesting?” 

“Oh, you know, a few scarves, that abhorrent jacket you used to wear, a book of spells, nothing too riveting.”

Merlin smirked. “What did you do with it all?”

“The book we kept for the library, the rest we gave away.” _Not completely true_ , but Merlin didn’t need to know that Arthur had tucked away safely one or two of his scarves in the locked cabinet next to his bed. 

Merlin looked at him in the soft light of the posted lantern. Arthur felt a brief thrill of contact when their eyes met. There was a quietness between them that was never there before. The wind rapped at the wooden shudders and the horses huffed and kicked occasionally, but they were alone. 

“I thought coming here would be easier.”

Arthur placed a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “Merlin, I-” he couldn’t find the words that he wanted to say. After years and years of formulating a response to all the unanswered questions he had, now, the moment he needed them most, they evaded him. “-I’m so glad that you’re here.”

Merlin looked at him meaningfully. In truth, he hadn’t been so sure about this either. It wasn’t being unforgiven that he feared, he expected reconciliation, but the change that he dreaded. Camelot went on without him, despite his pivotal role in the inner workings of its government. He knew how hard it would be to see the place he spent the springtime of his youth, he knew it would be hard to come back knowing it was in the past. 

But, his clan needed a rest for the winter and as their leader, he had to put his personal troubles aside as any leader should.

“All these years…” Arthur continued, “I wanted to find some way to bring you back. Only after a week, when my anger had subsided, had I realized Camelot was not the same without you here. _”_ He looked down at his hands, which were trembling under the weight of the truth and perhaps the cold as well. These kinds of sentiments were always difficult for him to express. He felt his face redden.

“Naturally,” He cleared his throat, “you might’ve tripped over a candlestick and burned the whole place to the ground,” He joked lamely, trying to cut the tension. 

“Leon told me that you sent campaigns out to look for me,” Merlin smiled, amusedly, but his eyes searched Arthur’s for something real. When all he saw was poorly masked shock, he stepped closer. “He also told me that you brought magic back to Camelot.”

“That-that wasn’t for you,” he stammered. 

Merlin shot him a wicked smile, knowing that he’d won their verbal boxing match. He’d missed this, this little tussle they always had. That electricity between them that struck and said always _keep pushing_. This is what the people saw, this is what made them wonder into the private lives of their king and his servant. 

Merlin’s smile faded. His feelings on the matter were complicated. He wanted to be with him the way that people thought they were. After about three years of working his position under the Prince, he realized that he was hopelessly in love with the man, but only after one of the knights had made a joke on the matter and the others started to chuckle as though they’d been telling it for ages. 

“Arthur, I left because I was angry, but I stayed away, not because I blamed you.” 

“Then why?”

He looked at the blond like he feared what was about to come out of his mouth. “I didn’t feel I had a place ...next to you.” 

Arthur looked at him. He wished it wasn’t this way. This was the piece of that night that haunted Arthur the most. The pain on Merlin’s face in that moment as his lips moved but his words didn’t register. 

_I love you. I love you. I love you._

He had been disgusted. He had been confused. That wasn't not how it’s supposed to be, right? Even if Arthur felt the same way for him, lords couldn’t court their servants. It was only after he left, that Arthur realized very quickly that he missed Merlin in more than one kind of way. 

He could hardly admit it to himself but he longed for his attention, and that longing had soon grown into desire. He remembered every inch of Merlin, or what he could see: the sharp planes of his collar bone, the elegant deftness of his fingers, the way his face looked when he was fighting a particularly tough kink in his armor. And he realized maybe this is all it had ever been. 

Maybe he’d always ached to kiss the pale skin and to taste his lips. He wanted to wrestle him in bed and fall back, laughing, into a rhythm of deliciously unseemly activities. 

Months after their spat, Arthur was halfway through making love to his wife when he realized that it wasn’t Gwen he was picturing in such compromising positions. It was confusing and wrong, but something about coming to that conclusion aroused him even more. There was something unsettling about the fact that his first-born, Amr, was conceived that night. 

How could he tell him that? It was impossible. He’d had his chance and now it was too late. The vows were made.

“Merlin, there is always a place for you in Camelot,” He said this low, knowing full well that this wasn’t what Merlin had meant. 

The sorcerer smiled to himself. He knew it was futile to say what he really wanted to whether or not Arthur had truly understood what had happened. And his King was not stupid. 

“It’s getting cold,” Merlin whispered, “shall we go back inside?” 

Arthur looked at him for a second. He wanted to beg him to stay, his closest friend, but instead he cleared his throat and said, “I think that would be wise.”

They left, saying nothing.

  
  


Two days passed this way. Arthur made small talk, Merlin was responsive, cheerful even. Arthur would try his hand at a joke, then they would bounce them off each other until someone stepped in, Gwen usually, and silenced them.

It was all perfectly pleasant, but it wasn’t the same. 

It was the fourth night of his visit and Arthur found himself enjoying his ale during dinner a little more than usual. His gut burned enjoyably and he was laughing along with that tale that Amr and Gwydre had spent all afternoon dreaming up, and with the aid of Merlin’s magic, they could really bring the story to life. 

A few of the serving girls poked their heads out of the kitchen to watch the show, even the cook had made herself known. Arthur watched as grand shadows danced along the walls, they were the shadows of robbers and knights and dragons alike. It was a long winded tale, with no discernable plot, but so is the way when the genius authors are between the ages of three and five. Of course, no one minded, it was all in good fun. Queen Guinevere watched the show with stars in her eyes, she was proud of her boys and their imaginations, but Arthur’s attention, needless to say, rested on the source of the illumination, the wizard himself. 

It was all beautiful. Watching his eyes turned to gold sent shivers down Arthur’s spine. Despite magic having long since been legalized in his country, it was seldom he witnessed it’s powers for recreation. And it never quite settled him watching it come from Merlin. He could not decide if it riled his stomach or his arousal more. 

By the end, they had amassed a bit of a crowd which made itself known by clapping and whistling once the alluring spectacle was over. One of the maids, a young girl, put her hand on Merlin’s shoulder and thanked him profusely for such a wonderful performance. Merlin smiled at her, took her hand and kissed it. “I’m glad you liked it.” 

She blushed and twirled her hair, obviously enamoured with the man. They talked a little longer before she curtsied and scurried off, but Arthur hadn't been listening. He'd eyed the whole interaction. In his drunken haze, he was a little insulted. Such flirtation in _his_ banquet hall? From his _personal_ guest? Afterall, he’d taken him in and now he’s gallanting with some chambermaid! Well, he would be having a chat with him about this later.

His anger dissipated a bit when he noticed his sons seemed to have taken a liking to Merlin as well. Gwydre was crawling all over him and Amr bombarded him with questions about the world and magic. It felt so natural that he should be here, next to him. Like he’d never left.

Merlin watched from the doorway as Arthur tucked the young princes into their beds with a kiss on each head and a story of his own. 

“They really are sweet boys,” Merlin whispered to his friend after he closed the door behind him, “you’re a good father.” 

Arthur walked alongside him silently. These words wracked him with an emotion that he didn’t quite understand. 

“Thank you for saying that,” he smiled appreciatively,“it’s something that plagues me, but to hear it come from your lips, I can be more at rest,” then looked at his feet as they went, “I want to give them what I didn’t have as a child, and, well, to hear you say that… I’m glad that I’ve finally done something right.” 

Merlin stopped in the middle of the hall. “Arthur, look at me,” he stared at him with an intense seriousness in his eyes, “you are the greatest king this land will ever know. You care about people in a way that I’ve seen in no other man.”

Arthur was stunned. Every word from Merlin’s mouth and it went straight to his heart, making it beat rapidly. It was like he saw right through him. He was trying to keep any semblance of control without getting emotional.

_Why is he saying this?_

“What happened between us was a mistake, it’s excusable,” Merlin continued, “But I know you, Arthur, you can’t continue to kill yourself over it.” 

Merlin watched his features as all the blood rushed out of his face. Arthur didn’t know what to say. These were the words he’d been waiting seven long years to hear. He felt dread release him from it's tight grip, like a heavy weight taken off his shoulders. It had worn him for so many years and now he was free. He felt so many things at once, looking onto the sorcerer's face, he didn’t know how to express any one of them well enough. It was like he’d exited his body and was a silent witness to what happened next. 

He stepped forward and without hesitation, without knowing what he was doing, he brought his lips to Merlin’s. It was sweet and testing and when Arthur gathered his wits, he pulled himself back. He couldn’t believe what he’d just done. It was simultaneously everything he’d thought about since Merlin left and everything he tried to force out of his head.

His face must’ve mirrored his thoughts, because Merlin looked at him with concern and thought Arthur might fall to the ground.

It was the drink! It was that naughty ale that made him this way, surely. Even though he was long since sober…

“Merlin, I-” But he didn’t finish his sentence before Merlin wrapped his hand around the nape of his neck and pulled him in for a searing kiss. And thank god, honestly, he had no idea what was going to slip out of his mouth if he had been allowed to speak for long enough. 

Whatever he felt, he pushed it all into kissing Merlin, and Merlin, it seemed, understood that kind of language. Arthur held his waist as he melted into him.

“You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting to do that,” Arthur said, pulling away slightly, letting his mouth linger over Merlin’s like a ghost of a kiss. He looked down at the lips he’d just tasted, and saw them red and swollen. 

“You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for you to do that,” Merlin breathed in response. He flashed an unbelievably happy smile and suddenly all of the features of his face were recognized from his youth. “I never knew you thought the same.”

He pressed his forehead to the King’s as they just stood in the alcove, embracing, caressing. 

“I only realized about a moment after you left.”

Merlin chuckled. It was then they heard someone turn onto the corridor as the steps started to grow louder. 

Arthur grabbed his wrist and in a fit of adventure said, “Come on!” as they scattered the rest of the way to Merlin’s chambers. They fell back against the door with a laugh once they got inside.

He noted how remarkably Arthur had aged, he still carried the beauty of youth but there was something wiser about it, more comfortable. He couldn’t put his finger on it exactly. He might have fancied him more now that he had grown into himself.

He was still a haughty prat when he wanted to be, but it was Merlin that brought that out of him. 

  
  


Merlin pushed a rogue strand of blond hair out of his impressive face. He let his eyes roam over the man he’d missed so dearly. 

“You haven’t changed a bit," Merlin smiled.

  
  



	3. Chapter 3

The two sat behind the door for a moment, drinking in each others’ features. Arthur didn’t say a word. He didn’t need to. He kissed him again, perhaps a little greedily, but how could he not? He thought he might cry, he’d never felt so unabashedly himself and he didn’t want to waste another second. 

Merlin placed a gentle hand on Arthur’s cheek to bid him to slow himself, and he might’ve for a second but then he unknowingly resumed his original pace. 

It was something else. He _ached_ for him. For his touch. For his everything. Anything Merlin could give to him, he wanted it. 

“ _Merlin,_ ” he pleaded. It was heartbreaking how he whined.

Merlin looked at him for a long time, his hand still draped across his face, thumb brushing his cheekbone. He had wanted this too. _God,_ how he wanted this. But things were complicated now. Arthur had moved on with his life. He had a family, he had subjects. He’d already broken his vows to Queen Guinevere in kissing him.

 _Would he regret it?_ Merlin thought, _would he regret me?_

But the way he said his name- the way he _begged_ \- well, it seemed like he’d thought on the matter a long time before this.

“What is it, my King?” Merlin ran his fingers through blond hair, pushing it back from his face.

“Please don’t call me that.” Arthur swallowed, overcome with… _something_. “Not while we’re alone.” 

Merlin looked onto him rather sadly. How long he’d dreamed of that face. How often he saw it as he willed himself to sleep. 

Merlin stood up and offered his hand to his friend, who took it, confusedly, and pulled himself to his feet. He took a step back, leading Arthur along until he felt the mattress press against his thighs. Their eyes never left each other. Merlin pulled the hem of Arthur’s shit up, over his head and discarded it. 

He watched Arthur’s slack-jaw expression as he did the same. Arthur’s fingers trailed up his skin, tracing the hard lines of his muscle. Merlin’s strength was far more visible now than it had been. It was clear that he’d spent this time away working laboriously and he’d grown rather strapping because of it. 

Arthur's disbelief before had been quiet, but this was palpable. Merlin searched his face for anything. Disgust. Rage. Any of what he’d seen before. But he saw nothing and that frightened him more. 

_Can he accept me now?_

Minutes passed as Arthur traced his abdominals with his finger, Merlin’s skin prickling at the feeling. He’d been so forward before, had he reproached himself now, seeing the body of his former friend? Did it repulse him?

“Arthur, please say something,” Merlin whispered, finally. He was usually confident when it came to romance, but Arthur was the only man that could undo him entirely with one single blow. He’d already done it once. Merlin didn’t think he could handle it a second time. 

Arthur swallowed again. “You’re beautiful,” he murmured. It was truly the first time Arthur had let his true emotions get the better of him. He’d always been taught that even a king is a servant to the people and if his interests did not suit those of the people, then he should be overthrown. Because of this, Arthur developed his feelings in a matter behind those of the greater good. His tongue was cut on the topics of his own needs. 

But it was then that it didn’t matter. Then, when all that guilt of years passed washed away in one brilliant smile. Merlin’s eyes beamed with this acceptance, this that he once deemed impossible. 

Arthur kissed him again with lack of more to say. He kissed him with the weight of his heavy heart and the things he’d left unsaid. He felt his skin press against the softness of the other. He wanted so much more but he didn’t know how to ask. 

“Merlin, I’ve-” he paused, searching for the words, “I’ve never had a man before.”

Merlin sat down on the mattress, looking up at him. With a sweet, goofy smile, he said, “It’s alright. We don’t have to do that.”

“No, I want to - with you - but… I would need you to teach me.” Arthur had something of embarrassment on his face, whether stemming from never having laid with a man or having just admitted it, Merlin didn’t care. He couldn’t wipe the smile off of his face. 

“I can do that, Arthur,” he purred as he grasped the king by his hips and kissed his navel. 

“H-have you?” 

“What, had a man?” Merlin looked up at him mischievously. 

Arthur nodded, trying to hide his arousal, but ultimately betrayed by the redness on his cheeks.

“I have,” he answered honestly, ”but I always thought that you were going to be my first.” Merlin was so nonchalant, so comfortable with himself. It made Arthur jealous that he had spent so long indulging the life Arthur had wanted. 

The King let out a shaky breath.

_I always thought that you were going to be my first._

He couldn’t describe how hearing this made him feel, but he knew that these words would be stored in his heart as long as he should live. 

_Had Merlin saved himself for me? Before he left?_

It was undoubtedly a chance not taken, the possibility of love passing like ships in the night. Oh, how he wished he could go back and shake some sense into himself.

Merlin started to untie Arthur’s laces, he did this slowly, treasuring every second. Fingers moved deftly, with precision, and not nearly fast enough to Arthur’s liking. The King grunted as the fingers got closer and closer and finally pulled back the fabric to reveal his cock, already hard. 

Merlin smiled again. Never-not-smiling, God, how he’d missed that face. He pushed his britches down to pool around his ankles. Arthur shuddered at the cold, but quickly forgot it when lips brushed the tip and sent sparks up his spine. He groaned. 

And if their years awkwardly spent apart was the defamation of their destiny, coming together like this was mending it. That piece of Arthur had returned and was currently looking up at him through dark curls while he kissed the most intimate parts of him. 

His body was hot and close to spilling over. Merlin proved some sort of an expert at these matters, because he knew exactly what to do. He let his wandering fingers prod the hole. Arthur gasped and Merlin pulled away only moments before he came. 

His imminent need to release subsided, if only briefly. 

Arthur protested, “well, don’t stop!” That haughty tone from their youth had returned.

Merlin looked up at him, amused. “How far do you want me to go? I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Don’t be such a girl, Merlin,” he snorted. “You couldn’t hurt me if you tried.” 

“Perhaps, but I wager I could make you moan.” 

Arthur burned red. Merlin’s eyes stared at him, daring him to meet the challenge. Maybe this was some sort of extension of their bickering. Either way Arthur didn’t think he could get any harder than he already was. 

Arthur’s first instinct was to retort with _well I wage you couldn’t,_ but he knew he’d make a fool out of himself the second Merlin put his hands on him again. He already had been the fool here, hadn’t he? 

“I’m not going to dignify that with a response,” he said instead, trying once again to gain the upper hand. 

Without looking away, Merlin calmly wrapped his palm around the King’s royal cock and slowly, with the patience of ages, began to caress. With a devilish smile, he said, “So you agree then?” 

Arthur’s breathing grew heavy at the feel of it all but he pretended not to notice. He tried to say anything at all but his mind went blank. All he could focus on was the weight of the blood pooling again southward in his body. 

He’d never been touched like this. None of his other ‘achievements’ had ever focussed on him like this and Arthur had convinced himself that that was the way that it _should_ be, that he got off on making others happy. He realized now how that was never the case. He wanted someone to tease him like this. He wanted to taste that feeling of being under someone else’s control, the staunch opposite to how he governed every other aspect of his life.

“M-Merlin,” he sputtered, but the sorcerer’s gaze had not left his face, and his pace had not swiftened. It was like Merlin was infatuated with the whole thing, dying to see what would come next. 

  
  


“What do you need,” Merlin whispered.

  
  


" _Please"_ Arthur swallowed, “ _touch me._ ”

  
  
  
  


___________

  
  
  
  
  


Sweet fire filled his veins. Arthur had no idea his body was capable of such sensations as this, he also had no idea how loud it would cause him to be. One thing was certain, Merlin _was_ right. Arthur knew he would catch hell of it in the morning but right now, right now it didn’t matter. 

He’d never imagined himself in this sort of position - mentally nor physically. The King had been pulled onto the lap of the man (far from a boy now, he could see _that !_ ) that he had lusted after for nearly a decade. It was a very, _ahem_ , un-kingly position. 

Merlin had prepared him carefully, too carefully, slowly until Arthur was greedy to _just bloody get on with it!_ And it did hurt at first, it was a strange sensation, like he was being filled. But that quickly gave way to an intense ecstasy as Merlin hit a certain special spot within him, as he sunk lower onto him. 

They were a sweaty, mewling mess, the two of them together. Merlin watched his face as it contorted from pain to immense pleasure. He loved how Arthur’s face grew rosier with every labored breath. He loved how Arthur looked at him as he sank deeper into bliss and how he _made it known_ . He loved that he could be a part of this moment. _His second first time._

He just really loved him. 

Arthur groaned as he bounced between Merlin’s thighs. He knew if he opened his eyes and saw that face, it would be over. He’d spill his seed and then this moment would end. 

“God’s Merlin... if I had known… _ah~_ … that this is how it could be… I would’ve bedded you ages ago,” He panted between the movements.

Merlin laughed, it was a deep-throaty laugh that shook his whole body, “Forgive me if I’m wrong, _Sire_ , but it seems like… like I’m the one doing the bedding here.” 

“Shut up… _Mer_ lin!” 

One more thrust and Arthur spilled himself onto Merlin’s chest with an undignified moan. He looked so beautiful with Merlin’s name on his tongue at the peak of his pleasure. The sorcerer made one last push and spent himself as well, before pulling out and falling into a heap on the mattress. 

Chest heaving, Arthur could not help but laugh. He looked at his lover with amazed bewilderment, and Merlin smiled in response. He’d never felt so in love. 

Arthur was still seeing stars when Merlin leaned over him and tenderly pushed hair out of his face. 

“Merlin, that was-that was…” he couldn’t even find the words. Extraordinary? Stunning? The best he’d ever felt? His eyes were fixed on the ceiling. 

“You were brilliant,” Merlin kissed his imperial forehead and laid down, pressing his chest into Arthur’s side as he let long fingers roam royal skin. 

Merin let out a contented sigh as but he realized Arthur had quieted. He waited a moment.

“Are you alright?” Merlin whispered, concerned by Arthur’s silence.

The King opened his mouth to speak but then closed it and shook his head. After a minute or two, he finally spoke. “The time I’ve spent dreaming about this, the years…” His head was clear of orgasm and had left him feeling rather remorseful. He looked to his friend earnestly. “How could we waste all that time?” 

Merlin knew how wounded he’d been by his own actions. He understood Arthur’s lament for time past, but he did not share it. It was true, yes, that had they been honest in their youth that their relationship might’ve been more accurate to what they both had wanted, but why dwell? Why think on it and think on it until you’ve made yourself sick for the days that have long since passed you by?

“It was never a waste.” Merlin propped himself up over him, looking at him hard. “What we were as kids- it was what we were meant to be.” 

Arthur gazed at him. _When had Merlin grown so wise?_ This was as serious as he had ever seen him. Merlin’s lips were pink and swollen, even more beautiful when the moonlight from the window illuminated pale skin and the sincerity in his eyes gave way to softness. 

“I suppose you’re right,” Arthur said in a low voice, not looking away, “the words don’t come to me, but every second since you left feels like a missed chance. I can’t help but feel like you were meant to be by my side...” Arthur wrapped his arm around Merlin’s shoulders to pull him down and hold him close. “One way or another.” 

They fell into place like pieces of a puzzle. Merlin draped his body across Arthur’s like they’d been doing this for ages.

Merlin kissed him deeply, he had missed him with every fiber of his being. 

As he laid there, listening to Arthur’s breathing slow with his head on his chest, he couldn’t help but fear for the coming days. It was clear that with in silent agreement of himself, Arthur expected him to stay in Camelot, but Merlin had not given his word. Perhaps Merlin hadn’t made himself clear enough… but that was never the intention. How could he tell him that he had taken responsibility for the people who had accepted him in his greatest time of need? He wouldn’t abandon them even if his conscience would allow it.

To the King, this little tryst was like coming home after a long, wandering journey. He could revel in the likeness they shared, the history. 

  
  


They fell asleep this way and woke up the same: in a tangle of limbs. Merlin raised his head first to look at his sleeping king. The sun was starting to peak over the ridge outside and Arthur was bathed in the early morning light. His blond hair shone as his chest rose and fell peacefully. It brought Merlin back to all those mornings he was tasked to wake him from his sleep. He always thought he looked beautiful then, you know, before Arthur sat up with his hair sticking every which way and smacked his lips like a horse. 

It was sweet to think back on all the times Merlin wished he was exactly where he was now, not standing at the foot of the bed looking in, but having slept the night through saddled up next to that blond mess of a man. 

Merlin kissed his cheek. He then sat himself up, pressing his feet to the floor and willed himself to stand. He figured he should get to his own bed before the manservant catches them and twitters to the whole castle.

He felt a hand grasp his wrist, and he turned to see Arthur stare at him with sleepiness and something else. “Don’t go yet,” he croaked, voice shaky from disuse. 

“I have to,” Merlin smiled, “What will they say when they come to wake you and find me in your bed?” 

Arthur’s grip didn’t loosen, instead it pulled Merlin back towards the bed. “Stay,” he said more firmly.

Maybe it was the years he’d spent as a man under his own rule that augmented his defiance to authority or maybe it was simply Arthur that brought it out of him. Whatever it was, Merlin forgot his plight and crawled over him with a deviant smile. He propped himself up by his wrists, caging Arthur’s head between his strong hands. 

“Or what, _my liege_?” He was intrigued. Provoking him was one of his favorite pass-times, but that was nothing new. “If I should disobey your highness' orders, what should you do to me?” 

Arthur looked up at him and he felt arousal pooling in his gut. Merlin hadn’t just gained strength, he’d gained a sort of confidence that couldn’t be faked. It was new and delicious and as much as it would kill him to admit it, it made him hard.

“My, we’ve gotten bold, haven’t we?” Arthur smirked with a twinkle in his eyes, meeting his challenge, “Maybe I’d feed you to the dogs for your insolence.”

“Hmm,” Merlin purred. He moved his hand to pin Arthur to the mattress, earning him a sneer. In one quick motion, Arthur dislodged Merlin's palm from his chest, causing the man to fall on top of him and with his strength, Arthur rolled them over so that he was now hovering above him. It was like an action of combat. Merlin laughed heartily and snaked through the King’s grasp, evading him. The two wrestled in bed for longer than they’d care to admit. It was nothing sexual, simply play. A memory that Arthur would cherish forever. 

They fell back, breathless.

“You’re not the twig you were,” Arthur smiled.

“Maybe you’ve gotten weaker, old man.”

The King feigned pain with a hand over his heart, “Oh, how you wound me!” 

He leant up to kiss the sorcerer. Yet again, he found himself speechless of Merlin’s new prowess. This seemed to be a rather common occurrence lately, and he decided that he didn’t ever want it to cease. 

_Stay with me,_ he wanted to say

and, _I love you._

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this took me far longer than I would've liked also it's reached a length that has kind of gotten out of hand ???? I thought this was going to be a one shot but I kept having more to say ! and I hate reading bombardments of text so here ya go I guess
> 
> hope you like it


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello I had a very difficult time writing this fic and I don't know why. maybe because it's driven more on emotion than plot and i had to try to think like the characters either way Im sorry it took so damn long and I hope that you like it anyways.

Merlin returned to his own room before breakfast so as not to raise suspicion, but when he greeted the king (for the second time that morning) from across the breakfast table, he did so with a sly smile. Arthur received it with a twinkle in his eye. He still had to remind himself this was no longer one of his fantasies. He could hardly believe it. 

“How did you sleep, my love?” Gwen asked him with tenderness in her voice. Merlin had turned to start his own conversation, speaking excitedly to Amr and Gwydre. 

Arthur smiled at her, “I slept beautifully.” He squeezed her hand. “And you?” 

“Yes, you look very well rested. I’m happy to see it,” she smiled back at him, “I slept well, my lord.” 

Arthur looked onto her face and knew he should hold himself in contempt, but he couldn’t. He’d reconciled himself ages ago. He loved Lady Guinevere, but it was a different love than that which he had for his friend. It was deep and domestic. He was doubtless that she made him a better man.

But his love for Merlin- it was much stronger than desire. He’d felt it with every fibre of his being for seven long years, and now that he finally had it, the thirst for it hadn’t subsided. Arthur lusted for him yes, but he also just craved nearness. He wanted to know him inside out, every story, every emotion, he wanted to taste it from him. 

And he knew what he had done to his wife. He knew that he’d broken his vows and that he could never forgive himself for indulging in his own selfish interest, but it felt to be so much more than that. This is something he needed. And if he had had these feelings for more than one other outside his marriage, then he would promptly reveal himself. But this was Merlin. This was a plot that spent a long time brewing. This was different. 

He hated himself for cheating on Gwen, but he would have hated himself more if he hadn’t. 

“Father, is that true? Was there really a dragon living under the castle?” Amr asked excitedly. Arthur looked at Merlin as if to say _Is this what you’ve been telling my children?_

“In his time, Merlin knew all the secrets of our kingdom,” He looked at his son. He laughed at the memory of his father attempting to marry a troll and his then Manservant barging in to tell him the news, or when Merlin had discovered a secret tomb under the castle which carried a multitude of treasure. 

“Did you ever meet it?”

“I did once,” Arthur smiled, “he was this great big beast that was larger than this very room.” He waved his hands to express the immenseness of the creature. 

Gwydre’s eyes sparkled. 

“His name was Killgarrah, and if I had not found him, your Father might not be here” Merlin added. 

“I don’t know about _that_. You don’t give me enough credit, my friend!” 

Merlin eyed him, “I don’t believe I ever told you all that he’s done for you- for the both of us.” He turned back to the boys, “He carried both of us on his back after your father had been wounded.” 

“Woah! You rode a dragon?” 

“He certainly did,” Merlin said, looking only at Arthur, “high above the clouds, he flew for miles!” The boys beamed at their father. Obviously they’d grown used to Arthur’s rank, they’d known nothing else, but it was in this moment that they regarded him in deep admiration.

“Where is he now? Can I meet him?” 

“I want to ride a dragon!” Gwydre shrieked. 

“He’s out there somewhere, maybe we shall one day meet again.” 

The five of them sat and spoke until the boys’ governess, Athylia, came to retrieve them for their lessons. The children protested, naturally, as lessons were not nearly as interesting as talk of dragons. Gwen scolded them for their behavior.

“May I sit in on a lesson?” Merlin asked, “I might be useful.” 

“Oh, can he, please?” Amr pleaded.

“I don’t see why not,” Gwen laughed. 

Arthur smiled. He would have given anything to see it but he’d been brushing his duties aside, he could not afford to do so for much longer. There was a meeting of the round table at noontime to discuss late winter rations and after that he would help to make rounds in the lower districts to gauge the prosperity of his people and inquire as to if there was anything more that could be done for them. He did this every year around this time, even though it certainly wasn’t within the obligations of a king. 

The two went their separate ways for the afternoon, but Merlin was never too far from his thoughts. At the head of the round table, he found the concerns of his advisors washed over him as his mind mused only of the night before. He tried to listen, he really did, but it was all perfect, it was all beautiful. How could he possibly be expected to give attention, when images like _that_ danced behind his eyes?

It wasn’t until very late in the evening that Arthur returned to the castle, but not to his chambers. He crept into his guest’s room and quietly closed the door behind him. The room was dim. The only source of light was that of the crackling fireplace by which Merlin was sitting on a chair with a book in his lap. The cold was starting to break, and spring was closer than autumn. The chill was not as biting as it had been only days before.

Merlin looked up from his reading, surprised when he saw Arthur, then smiled.

“You’re back late, my Liege.” 

Arthur came around to him. He wanted to wipe that smug smile off his face, but he instead took off his riding gloves and dropped them on the table beside him.

“And how were my sons’ lessons?” Arthur stood before him shrugging off his coat, “did you learn anything?”

Merlin shot him a playful look, “They are very bright boys. It didn’t take them more than an hour to outwit me.” 

“Well they learned from the best,” Arthur took a flippant bow.

“Yes, Gwen is a smart one, isn’t she.” 

“She certainly is.” His face, half illuminated by the fire, was held in its usual stirness, but there was a beautiful softness to it when he’d let there be.

Merlin watched him with a glimmer of amusement. He was interested to see what he would do next. Clearly, he hadn’t wandered into his room for small talk. No, that would be too domestic. In truth, Arthur could do nothing but strategize having him again without being mocked for wanting. 

“I have been thinking about you all day,” he said quietly. “I can’t get you out of my head.”

Merlin licked his lips, as if about to speak but decided against it. 

Arthur looked at him hard as he knelt before him. The King wasn’t quite sure what he should do next but he started to fumble with the laces of Merlin’s trousers as the wizard sat there with his lips parted. 

Without a word, Arthur brought his mouth down to kiss his svelte thigh roughly, with his teeth. He’d thought about that pale skin seemingly all his life. _What did it feel like in his most intimate places? What did it smell like in the heat of passion?_ It was more tanned now but it didn’t matter. Arthur wanted to leave a bruise to remind Merlin the day after what he had done to him. He wanted to mark him. _He’d been there._

What he was about to do, he’d never done before. In fact it’d only been done to him once or twice in his youth but he could remember the bliss it brought him. He’d never asked his wife to try it, it was too… _degrading_ to see her that way. He wasn’t sure there was even a name for it, but it was dirty and delicious and he wanted to please his lover. He wanted to convince Merlin that there was always a place for him here, there was always a place for his cock in his mouth. 

Arthur kissed the ruddy tip experimentally and Merlin moaned. Then he took more of him in his mouth, earning a sharp inhale.

“ _Arthur~_ ” he breathed. The King looked up at him, continuing with his work. 

Merlin groaned at the site of it. He loved it when Arthur looked at him like that. He couldn’t summon the words to tell him to take his clothes off so in a flash of gold, Arthur’s red slipped off and flung itself across the room to land in a heap on the floor. 

The King’s eyes went wide. He’d never seen Merlin use his magic so effortlessly. It was like nothing at all to him. Merlin was watching him from his chair with a lazy expression as Arthur felt the heavy weight of his lust pool in his stomach.

“Do it again,” he whispered.

Without so much as an incantation or a nod of the head, Merlin’s eyes flashed gold again, this time untying Arthur’s trousers and pushing them down around his ankles. It was then very obvious just how Arthur felt about his magic. Merlin smiled at this, knowing how rare it was to render his king utterly speechless. The light of the fire danced across his face. 

Then his own clothes removed themselves from his body and fell to the floor. He sat forward on his chair, leaning in very close to Arthur, who was sitting below him on the floor and could do nothing but breathe. 

He didn’t know this Merlin, he decided. The Merlin that took what he wanted. The Merlin that was honest with every stride. The one that walked with such a confidence he’d never seen before. He didn’t know this man, but he desperately wanted to. 

He didn’t want him to ever leave. 

Merlin’s eyes glanced down to royal lips, not pretending to mask what he wanted. He smiled, pushed forward and met him.

The kiss was searing, but there was something else. A buzzing sort of energy flowed around his body and it made Arthur’s skin prickle with sensitivity. Where Merlin touched him, a euphoric sensation stirred. He could not help but simply lean into it and let Merlin caress his body. 

His mind was clouded with lust and physical stimulation, a state he had never fallen so deep into before. And when he pulled back slightly, Merlin’s eyes still radiated gold. Arthur touched his face. The sensation didn’t fade. He felt intoxicated, as though he drank too much ale and the soft burning of his gut spread to the rest of his body. It was hardly a bad thing. In fact, to say that it was pleasurable would be an understatement. He bathed in this warm fuzzy feeling. 

“What are you _doing_ to me?” Arthur smiled lazily, letting his fingers roam his own body. It felt good but not as good as when Merlin did it.

“D’you like it?” Merlin purred.

“How could I not?” 

Merlin hummed in amusement, running his fingertips over Arthur’s chest and observing the way he reacted. Arthur groaned softly when he graced a nipple, so he did it again. Athur shivered. 

“I love how sensitive you are, my Lord,” Merlin’s face hovered over his, eyes still gleaming in the darkness, before he planted a ghost of a kiss on the King’s lips. 

Arthur exhaled. He was already aching, he was already a bit wet with pre-ejaculation. Between seeing Merlin’s magic, and feeling it working against him like this, he knew it wouldn’t be much longer. 

“Lie down,” Merlin whispered. Arthur did. There was a fur on the floor besides the fireplace that tickled his skin as he surrendered himself to it. Merlin knelt over him and smiled. “How do you feel?” 

Arthur couldn’t speak. He was enraptured by what he saw. Merlin was something else. Otherworldly, he was convinced of it. The strong face of a man that all turned boyish when he smiled. And he did it so often. Sparse, dark hair trailing along a defined chest. Curly strands falling into golden eyes, as he hung over him. 

Arthur reached up and pushed a few out of Merlin’s face to see it better. The sorcerer took that hand and kissed it. He was so warm. In a strange moment of clarity, Arthur realised that when it was his time, when he should die, he would want it to be in the arms of his lover. Perhaps it should’ve been that day by the lake. Maybe Merlin should’ve let him go.

_Because it certainly felt as though every moment since was a moment squandered._

“Merlin, I-” his throat clenched. He wanted to blame the magic, but he knew it was his own inhibitions keeping his tongue swollen. 

He looked down into the blond’s face and drew concern from it. “What is it?” The buzzing feeling that entangled Arthur dimmed as Merlin asked this.

Arthur swallowed, “it’s nothing,” he smiled. Merlin was stunning this way. He was stunning every way. Part of Arthur couldn’t believe he shared his affections. “You’re beautiful, it put me off.”

Merlin laughed. “Quite the romancer. I didn’t know it was so easy to put a king off.”

“Well, when this is the picture I get to look at, it’s easy to see why.” 

This earned an abundantly happy grin from Merlin. “You flatter me, _my Liege_ ,” he said reaching down between them, to caress Arthur between his legs. “How should I repay you?” 

The feeling was back at full force and it was quick and stinging. Arthur sputtered, “Don’t stop.”

This was nothing like he’d had before. It was understood that the sex was secondary to the intimacy. Of course, he touched his wife, sometimes without the intention of having her, but this was something else entirely. There wasn’t this silent understanding between Gwen and himself. And he’d never been made to be the receiver, nor did it bother him. He suspected that Guinevere was a bit timid when it came to the matter.

Soon enough he felt Merlin’s magic consume him inside and out, it was like nothing he’d ever known. He thought he could get addicted to this kind of thing. He hardly even touched him, but he was like a pot about to boil over. 

“Jesus, Arthur, you’re easy,” Merlin laughed. His eyes returned to their natural blue.

Arthur spilled himself with a groan and rode out his bliss looking onto Merlin’s face. 

“I swear, with anyone else it takes me ages.” He began to return to himself, heart still racing, breath still heaving, but slower. “Must be you.”

Merlin magicked them clean before laying down beside him. The fur and the warmth felt good on his bare skin. He intertwined their fingers together. Arthur bent his elbow up to kiss the hand, before letting them drop back to the floor. 

“Where did you learn that kind of magic? Surely the druids don’t teach that.”

“They don’t. It just comes out of me.” Merlin turned his head to look at him, they were mere inches apart. He wouldn’t have to go so far to plant a kiss. “Is it strange for you to see my magic?” 

He thought for a moment, “it’s a bit strange, yes. But only because I knew you for so long without it.”

They looked at each other. Even after the haze of lust had cleared his feelings for Merlin remained.

“I suppose it would be like if you were to change your name. It’s as much a part of you as anything else, but still something to get used to.” 

Merlin beamed at him. He knew that he’d finally been accepted in his entirety. He kissed him happily. They laid there for a while longer, embracing each other, before Merlin urged them to the bed. 

“We can’t have a king rule with a bad back, can we?” 

He knew he was right, but Arthur simply grunted in response. He was comfortable and he didn’t want the moment to end. 

“I’ll lay with you a bit longer, but both of us need our rest. I have a long journey ahead of me very soon.”

Arthur sat up quickly and glared at his words. “What? You’re leaving?”

Merlin looked at him, confused, “Yes, I thought that was what we agreed on.”

It was true, the agreed upon week was almost up. The next day would be his last in Camelot before he should ride off over the ridge and live his life far away from this place. 

“I thought-” Arthur was searching for the right words, “I thought you would stay, after all this.” It hadn’t even occurred to him that he was still thinking of leaving at the end of the week. Arthur got it in his head that the goal of Merlin’s stay was for the two of them to restore some sort of relationship between them through the guise of letting his people rest. They’d done that hadn’t they? 

“No, Arthur. I have business to attend to in Essetir. My people need me, I have to get on,” he wore a stirn expression, “surely you of all people can understand that.”

There was silence between them. Arthur felt a wave of emotions that he couldn’t make sense of. He was angry. He’d done all this for him. He’d been living for him. He’d cheated his wife for him. He’d done everything within his power, both as a king and as a friend, and still it could not keep him. 

“What’s gotten into you?” Merlin sat up to meet his eye level. 

Arthur was staring into the fire with a pain expression on his face. “I just thought... I’d finally be good enough for you.”

“Don’t say that,” Merlin regarded him with a sorry look, “it’s not a matter of ‘good enough’, it’s a matter of duty to those I am responsible for.” 

Arthur felt his throat clench. He wanted to vomit. _What have I done wrong?_

“You’re starting to look ill.”

“I’m fine.” Arthur waved his hand to signal that he didn’t want to talk about it. He stood up with a sigh, threw on his clothes, and headed for the door. Before he left, he threw a sad look at his lover as if he was about to say something then decided against it and parted. 

Merlin was left naked, hugging his knees before the fireplace. 

  
  
  


Arthur found himself crawling into bed beside Gwen. It felt wrong, but he knew he should not lie alone tonight. He feared what he would do, what thoughts would cross his mind. He willed it to go blank. He held his wife tightly. He felt her smooth skin on his cheek and her own hands holding his to her breast. He laid there and convinced himself this was how it was supposed to be.

  
  


...

  
  
  


He was solemn the next day, but he wouldn’t let that show. He had to attend to his affairs with his usual temperament. Merlin was nowhere to be seen so he ate happily with his family, laughed at his sons’ jokes and held the gentle hand of his wife. _This is as it should be._

There were about a million neglected tasks that required the King’s attention today. It was easy to throw himself into his work. But he also felt that should this really be Merlin’s last day in Camelot for the foreseeable future, that he should be spending it with him, whether it is as a friend or a lover. 

Around noontime Arthur came out of a meeting with his advisors and was faced with Merlin in the hall. There was a small sense of irony in the situation, when he walked out in his robes and crown and kingly garb and that Merlin had lectured him on duty the night previous. 

“Arthur, can we talk?” He looked at him earnestly. 

Arthur nodded and then motioned for him to go ahead, but Merlin waited a moment for some people to pass. 

“What is it?” Arthur asked with an imperious tone.

“I hope you will forgive me for last night, I hadn’t been clear with my intentions and I certainly didn’t mean to hurt you.”

Arthur waved his hand to tell him to stop. “It was wrong of me to assume that you would stay on my account, I apologize.” He said this with the grace of a king and not that of a dear friend. 

“Arthur, I…” Merlin looked at him with pain in his eyes. He didn’t know what more could be said. “I’m sorry that I cannot be here with you,” he said quietly. 

“I understand that you have your own responsibilities to your clan. It’s no matter.” 

Merlin was concerned for him. Naturally, he didn’t want Arthur to be bruised but this was different. He was shutting himself out, making it impersonal so that he didn’t feel the full extent of his pain. He’d done this before and had quietly suffered for it. 

“Are you alright?” Merlin asked stupidly.

“Quite,” Arthur said with a brief smile, “Is there anything else you would like to discuss or might I go back to my duties?”

Merlin looked at him hard. He knew he was hurting. He could feel it. But he nodded all the same and Arthur left him in silence, not looking back. 

_This is the way it has to be._

  
  


**. . .**

  
  


Arthur found himself looking out into the square below his window. The snow had mostly melted leaving slush and a few white heaps here and there. Yet again, he’d watched the sky start to fill with color. He stood at the window, not yet dressed for the day. 

Merlin had said his goodbyes the night before, knowing they would leave at dawn when the King would likely be fast asleep. It was a kind gesture but the King hardly slept anymore and Arthur knew that night would be no better.

He watched the party settle their bags and saddle their horses. It wasn't a lot. The Druids were known to take only what they needed, if not a little less. It was a hard life. One could never be certain if he would eat that day.

Merlin was easy to spot. He moved deliberately and cloaked himself in a blue hood.

Arthur congratulated himself on masking his disappointment the day previous, he knew Merlin could see through it, but it seemed to change little. Now, he felt the full range of his anger, his fear, and his sadness. He didn’t want him to leave. He didn’t know how life should move on past this. Should he ever return?

His stomach churned as he watched the first of the druids kick his horse in to slow motion. He watched them pass the city gates. There was so much he wanted to say, he almost wanted to run after them. But he knew it was futile. He knew in his heart that if he should ever see his lover again, everything would be different. They would not spend their nights in passion. They would likely not even touch. 

Could he survive without that beautiful buzzing Merlin had shown to him? It was a bit cruel for him to make him experience the full extent of pleasure, only to take it all away what felt like moments later. He suspected it was the way Merlin looked at him when he smiled that he would miss the most. 

Arms snaked their way around Arthur's waist.

_What cruelty,_ he thought. 

“It was lovely to see him so happy. I hope that he returns soon,” Gwen whispered as she clasped herself to her husband. “I think the boys will miss him.”

Arthur looked out towards the party. He could’ve sworn that he saw a blue hood turn to take one last look at him as it disappeared over the ridge. He felt his eyes sting as he watched.

"Yes, me too."

The endless sky folded to a pale blue, and there was no longer so much as a shadow to be seen of the Druids or of Merlin. They were gone. Talk would return to other things, mundane, uninteresting things and with every passing comment, Arthur would know in his heart that his life could be different if he were more selfish. He'd always be sitting idly by, just waiting for his herald to return with another letter. And he'd do so happily. 

Finally, his throat formed the words it had taken him so long to confess. 

_I will love you forever._

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry


End file.
